Adagio of Rocks
by Hermia S
Summary: The story of a soldier put at odds with herself and an admiral tired of inaction. One is moving forward while the other steps back. It takes meeting in the middle to find that they are not as poorly matched as they once believed.
1. Godspeed to you, Commander

He recognized her voice.

As the woman stepped through a door opposite him, speaking in hushed tones to the human and turian at her flank, Steven Hackett felt a rush of familiarity. It was something akin to deja vu, and yet it was stronger. It was crisper; more intense. For a moment, he felt himself standing there, no more than a yard away from the doors that rushed closed, his feet planted into the ground a minute's walk from Anderson's office.

Blinking once, he gave his head a shake. He _knew_ that voice. He'd heard it before, but he couldn't pin a name onto the sound. His shoulders rose and fell as he glanced in the direction of the door again. It led down to one of the Presidium's many lakes, surrounded by elevators and rapid transport stations. Even stronger than the desire to figure out who'd he just heard, however, was the necessity of meeting with Anderson.

A message had been passed along a few days prior, informing him that they'd discovered the remains of the Normandy on Alchera. Along with the skeleton of the vessel came a sense of relief, even knowing that this would only open old wounds for the family members of those lost in the accident.

He and Councilman Anderson had discussed this in length. He was to organize a group of soldiers to place a monument at the wreckage for those lost and attempt to find any remaining evidence lingering among the tragedy. When the conversation was through, he hadn't expected to hear another word from Anderson on the subject. It was settled; they'd decided upon what they would do. What else was there to discuss?

This question quickly faded to the wayside when the door to Anderson's office slide open to reveal the councilor sitting at his desk, index and middle finger digging a circle into his temple.

"Councilor," Hackett began, glancing over his shoulder to watch the door close before stepping up to his desk.

Anderson straightened, his arm falling across his thigh. "Hackett," he greeted, nodding towards the chair in front of him. His eyebrows were poised high on his forehead, creasing the lines deeper to match those around his mouth. "I've got news. Good... ah, relatively good news."

Sitting down in the chair opposite Anderson, Hackett removed his glasses, folding them and inserting them into the front pocket of his uniform. Despite the weariness on Anderson's features, he found the corner of his mouth tilting upwards in a hint of a smile. Over the years, he'd learned very quickly that receiving a message including the acronym 'ASAP' was never, _ever_ a good thing. He was pleasantly surprised that this wasn't the case for once. "Good news is good news. Relativity has nothing to do with it."

"Shepard's alive."

Hackett's jaw worked in a vain attempt to keep himself from gaping at Anderson. Of course, he'd heard the rumors, but there had been rumors before. Some hotshot merc gets a big head in the Terminus, starts wearing an N7 helmet and referring to herself as Shepard. A group of hackers find some way to get into Shepard's old accounts undetected to buy new parts for their junker of a ship, the gossip mill starts churning out word that she's alive.

It happened time and time again, but heroes like Shepard didn't get the luxury of resting in peace. Evidently that phrase couldn't be any more true. He'd seen the wan expression on Hannah Shepard's face every time some idiot revived her daughter's name. Wounds as deep as that _didn't_ heal, but that was no reason for anyone to take advantage of it.

The moment Anderson's words dissolved into a shocked silence, something clicked. That woman in the hallway had been Shepard. He'd been _feet _away from her, heard her talking to her party, and he hadn't been able to recognize her voice. After so many years of being well-acquainted with the Shepard family, followed by months of sending her priority missions for the sake of the Alliance, he felt like an imbecile for not realizing.

Anderson cleared his throat. "The Council reinstated her Spectre status. She's... doing well. The _other_ rumors, however—"

"Cerberus."

The ghost of a wrinkle between Anderson's brows nearly turned into a valley. "They're true. She was quick to assure me that Cerberus isn't giving the orders, but they're holding a lot over her head right now. She made it sound like she didn't have a choice."

Hackett took a deep breath, palm rolling against his knee and eyes focused on the very front of the desk. "Did she give you any intel? Do you know what they have her doing?"

The councilor laced his fingers together in front of his console. "It's about the abductions; the human abductions in the Terminus." From the moment Shepard left his office to the second Hackett entered, he'd been circling around what she'd told him, trying to figure out where he stood, what he could do, what _anyone_ could do to help her. "Collectors. Cerberus seems to think they're working with the Reapers."

Everyone who'd been on the Citadel two years ago knew very well that the Reapers existed. Denial was their easy out, and those who resisted were often called crazy. Unstable. The Council denounced the existence of the race without a moment's consideration, effectively casting Shepard's name and most of what she'd done into shadow. Out of fear or ignorance, even humanity was afraid to call her a hero.

He'd seen Sovereign. He'd nearly been shot out of the sky by the geth fleet that accompanied the massive structure. And he wasn't the sort of fool who could accept that this vanguard was a singular threat. Wherever it'd come from, there was a whole fleet of them. Anyone thinking otherwise was too comfortable on their high horse to consider other options.

"The Collectors are working with the Reapers," Hackett repeated on a breath, leaning back slightly in his chair. "That doesn't explain why they're going after _human_ colonies, Anderson. They've never gone after such a massive group of a single race, if I remember correctly. Don't they go after anomalies? Two-fingered turians? Colorblind asari?"

"We've only been part of the galactic stage for a handful of years in comparison to the other species'." Sucking silently on his teeth, Anderson's eyes went to his console. He was already amassing a small fortune's worth of messages. A quiet sigh passed his nostrils, and he looked towards Hackett. "We _are_ the anomalies."

The heavy pause resting between them stretched and stretched, pulled by their twinned horror at the situation and a learned respect for those already fallen.

When he felt they'd been quiet for long enough, Anderson rose from his chair. "Shepard will want to hear about Alchera. I didn't mention it while she was here. She had enough to chew on." Moving around to stand in front of Hackett, he held out a cordial hand. The other man stood, taking the hand in a firm shake. It wasn't surprising to find that his hands were quite a bit softer. "You were put in charge of the mission; it's only right that you contact her."

"Thank you for informing me, David."

Anderson nodded. "Not a problem." Letting go of Hackett's hand, he took a step back, thighs pressing into the edge of his desk. "You're closer to Hannah Shepard than I am," he continued. "Would you...?"

It was Hackett's turn to nod. "Of course." Turning to leave, he looked over his shoulder at the councilor. He couldn't help himself. This moment was far too important to just leave, to just skirt around the subject or ignore it completely until he set about composing the message. "So she's alive."

"That she is," Anderson said, allowing himself a wide smile. "Alive and kicking, just like always."

"That's... good news." Hackett returned the smile, though his was softer, more personal. "That's very good news."

* * *

Dia Shepard was standing behind the wide, leather back of Joker's chair when she saw EDI flicker out of the corner of her eye.

"Yeoman Chambers would like me to inform you that you have received an urgent message, Shepard." Brows knitting together, she leaned heavily on the chair, her attention turned from the orange omni-board to the light blue glow of the AI. "It is from Admiral Steven Hackett of Alliance Command. The message includes direction to a planet called Alchera in the Amada system. Would you like to plot a course there now?"

She could hear Kelly in the background, not bothering with hushed tones as she chastised the AI for digging into Shepard's messages. Clearly there was only room enough in _that_ job for one person. Shifting on her feet, she passed her tongue over her bottom lip. "We won't be plotting a course anywhere until I read that message." Leaning forward, she looked into Joker's face to see him smirking. "Keep that in mind, won't you? I'll send down word after I see what he Admiral Hackett has to say."

"There really isn't any privacy on this ship," he sighed, the back of his head pressing into the cushion. "I swear, just the other day, I felt EDI watching me while I was in the shower."

"Hey, who says it was EDI? For an AI, she has impeccable manners."

The blue globe pulsed. "Thank you, Shepard."

Dia smiled to herself. "Plus, it might've been Kasumi. She's just as quiet."

"Oh, thanks," Joker retorted. His smirk disappeared, replaced by a green glare. "That's so much better. I'm gonna start showering with my clothes on now."

Giving the bill of his hat a tap forward, Dia straightened her posture and turned towards the CIC. She hadn't heard from Hackett in a very long time. At least, it _was _a very long time; it felt like she'd met him for coffee on the Presidium after accepting her medal mere months prior. He probably couldn't recall the Hero of the Citadel burning her tongue on an asari blend, but she did _and_ felt the flush of embarrassment trailing in the wake of that memory.

When she passed by the consoles at the base of the galaxy map, Kelly gave her an apologetic smile that required no explanation. Nodding, Dia passed her without a word and stepped into the elevator. Reading this message in private was a much better idea than reading it in front of everyone in the CIC.

Once she was in the confines of her cabin, she gave the hem of her Cerberus uniform an agitated tug. Even if it _was _the exact right size, she knew the black and white cloth would never hang off of her as well as her Alliance blues. The effect was psychological, but she wasn't interested in changing her mind. It was a very small thing in the grand scope of things, but it was still important to her.

Setting herself down in front of her console, she watched as it flickered to life before her eyes. The message was a few strokes away, returned to its previously 'unread' status due to the yeoman's thoughtfulness. She tapped the screen, watching with dark eyes as the words came into view.

A trill of both anxiety and excitement bubbled upwards from her stomach. This feeling was becoming commonplace in recent days. After a reunion with Tali on Freedom's Progress and Garrus on Omega, meeting with Anderson on the Citadel – even seeing Emily Wong's smiling face plastered all over the Citadel News Network, they were all she had that brought a smile to her face.

She didn't like being thrust into the unfamiliar or taken unawares. It kicked in a fight or flight reflex that had been honed to a sharp point inside of her where it was mere reflex in most others. Everything that came after waking up in a Cerberus facility and informed she'd been dead for two years was nothing less than a kick in the teeth. She clung to these small instances of familiarity like they were the very last things holding her feet on the ground.

As she read over Hackett's letter, that feeling returned in full force, but it was followed with the realization of what he was asking her. He wanted her to find the wreckage of the Normandy, to retrieve any evidence of the fallen and place a monument.

Even still, the warmth didn't abate. It wasn't overpowered by any feelings of sadness or even anger. She wasn't afraid of Alchera or the sky that surrounded it. This wasn't the first time she'd returned to a planet to honor fallen comrades, and she reckoned that it wouldn't be the last. She'd shed her tears after Akuze. Mourning would only prolong the pain. Celebrating – honoring – those who'd died would raise them up. All of them, including her.

Taking a deep breath, Dia turned in her chair. "EDI?"

The AI blinked into existence on the other side of the room. Its blue glow mixing with that of the fish tank, creating moving shadows on the slick, metallic floor. "Yes, Shepard?"

"Tell Joker to change our heading." Twisting in her chair again, she looked towards the console.

_Godspeed to you, Commander._

"We're going to Alchera."


	2. Melted Snow

The only sound in Shepard's cabin was the faint _thunk_ of her battered N7 helmet being placed on her desk.

The crew knew that she would want her privacy. They gave it to her willingly; no one was ignorant enough to not realize the gravity of the situation. Zaeed gave her no more than a nod when she climbed out of the Kodiak. He noted the dog tags clutched in her hand. She held them high, not allowing them to droop by her hip, the fist they were clutched in resting over her ribs. She'd passed by Miranda on the way to the elevator, and for once, nothing was said between the two of them. Dia was thankful for it, which might have shown for a brief moment in the corner of her mouth. No matter how small, it was an expression Lawson wouldn't soon forget.

In the Mess, she asked Joker about those who'd been lost, about what Shepard reported back during her mission on the planet's surface. At first, he shook his head. He didn't want to pick at a scab like that. Everyone knew what happened when you just kept picking at it.

"She found..." Setting his fork down on his plate, he looked up at Miranda, and she was surprised to find that his eyes were glassy. "She found Williams' tags."

For a moment, Miranda said nothing, and Jeff felt the cool metal around his neck double in its weight. He should've kept them somewhere safe. Why the hell did he have to put them on? "Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams?" she asked, leaning forward in her chair when Joker gave a faint nod. "And the others? Did she find what she was looking for?"

"_She_ wasn't looking for anything down there," Joker replied. His words were crisp. Annoyed. Frayed at the edges. Lifting his cup, he took a long drink of water. It wasn't Lawson's fault; she was just curious. He had to keep reminding himself of this. "The Alliance sent her on that mission, and she did it because there are families all around Citadel space who didn't get any closure. She didn't _want_ to go there. It wasn't her _choice_."

"I'm not going to question Shepard's devotion to the Alliance," Miranda continued. She could see Joker's mounting frustration. He hated being cornered like this, drilled with questions he either didn't know the answer to or didn't feel like it was his place to answer. "I know more about her than even you through my research, but a list of accomplishments, purchases, and doctor visits – they don't help me _understand_ her."

Joker flipped over the thick slab of beef on his plate, not even bothering to look up at her from his food. "Have you talked to her?" Before Miranda could open her mouth to answer, his green eyes flashed, stare shifting from his dinner to the Cerberus operative. "And I don't mean any of that pseudo-interrogation bullshit you pull with everyone. I mean, really talk to her. Get to know her. You can't just _get_ someone like Shepard without actually trying to put yourself out there."

He watched as Miranda's jaw tensed and relaxed; tensed, relaxed. Her brows pinched inwards and upwards. "It's difficult to be friendly with someone when they don't trust you." She took a short breath, releasing it in something that very nearly sounded like a sigh.

Well, damn, this actually bothered her. He didn't think she _had_ feelings.

"It's not for lack of trying." Her eyes became heated, shoulders drifting forward as she repositioned herself even closer to him. Voice dipping low, she concentrated all of her attention on the pilot, narrowly avoiding the look she got from Jacob as he passed by their table. "I've been honest with her. The Illusive Man put me here for a reason, but that reason isn't to harm her." Straightening her posture, she rested her arms on the table. "I'm here to help. She's under a lot of stress. Was she like this... before? During the hunt for Saren?"

"No," Joker said simply. He pushed his plate away, the grinding feeling in his stomach making it impossible for him to eat. "But you can't expect her to be the same. She _died_. I've had a few near death experiences in my life, and I can tell you it isn't fun." Curling one arm around his stomach, he drifted back until his back hit the chair. "Shepard? That whole death thing wasn't even the worst that happened to her, but it's taken away a hell of a lot more than anything else."

The corners of Miranda's mouth turned down at their corners. He'd never seen her frown like that before. While he hadn't exactly spent buckets of time with her, he'd only ever seen that chilly, complacent expression on her face. She was surprising him.

When she spoke, her voice was softer. "The Alliance."

"Meant everything to her." Swallowing around the lump in his throat, Joker stared into the face of the operative. "Now, the Alliance did a _lot_ for me. If it wasn't for them, I'd be stuck in some stupid desk job. But there are a lot of things I wouldn't do if they asked. With her? It's not the same."

"What do you mean?"

"Look, I... don't feel comfortable talking about this. Not here. Sure as hell not to you. Dia didn't have a choice in this. It was all you, all Cerberus, but she's not gonna let this go on. Even if it means giving up what she's had her entire life, humanity needs her. Again." Joker chuckled, but there was no humor in it. "Not the most surprising thing ever."

"Of course." Miranda shook her head, leaning back in her chair. "I'm... sorry for pressing you like that. You understand my concern?"

Joker nodded again and grabbed his plate, shifting out of the chair. He really wasn't hungry anymore.

At the very top of the ship, Dia left her en suite bathroom with damp hair and a gray t-shirt that clung to her back. She was never dry enough after a shower, not willing to stand there and buff at herself with a towel for more than half a moment. It felt good to be clean, felt good when the cool air hit the lingering dampness at the back of her knees and neck.

When she settled down onto her chair, she noticed a faint pulse at the bottom of her console's screen. She was usually alerted by either EDI or Kelly when she had a new message; had they kept quiet out of respect?

Her toes splayed against the floor as she pushed her chair around to face the console. Who could it be? Had Joker forwarded a message to Hackett that she'd found the tags and placed the monument? Dia bit at the inside of her bottom lip, black brows arching inward as she opened the message. But it wasn't a response to a mission report. It wasn't Hackett giving his thanks and wishing her well. It was a video.

The face was familiar to her. Incredibly so. The man was in his late twenties with prominent eyebrows, a shock of black hair, and a wide smile. The smile was even wider than she was used to, and it dimpled his cheeks. She could also see that his brown eyes were very nearly quivering. Leaning onto her hand, Shepard couldn't help but smile to herself, her expression mirroring his in almost every way.

"First of all, I hate you," he began, leaning back away from the camera with a laugh. "Tonight was supposed to be about me, Dia." His voice hitched on her name, twisting a fist around her heart. "I finally graduate from university – with my PhD, no less – and my party gets crashed by Admiral Hackett telling mom that you're alive. And you know mom. She acts all tough, but she started crying and everyone got all worried. When she explained to everyone what had happened, I thought I'd have to be put to work early. Heart attacks all around."

Wiping at her eyes, Dia chuckled. She couldn't believe it. While her perception of time was faulty at best after spending two years dead or in a coma, she hadn't seen Daniel in... Shutting her eyes, she paused the video just as he was opening his mouth to calculate how long it'd been. The last time she'd seen him was in 2182. He was going to school full-time on Earth; she was with the Alliance. They had one family dinner together before Shepard had to ship out. For her, it'd been one year since she'd seen her brother. For him, three years had passed, and he still hadn't seen or heard from her.

She pressed play, and his voice filled the room a second time. "Thankfully, everyone kept calm. Well, relatively so. Mom and Hackett had to give them all a lecture about how they can't say anything to anyone, that your being alive is still being kept under wraps."

"So you send me a video on an unsecu–"

"And before you send me something calling me an idiot, I made sure this line was secure enough. Only _really_ good hackers should be able to get into it." The smile that overtook his face was damn near cocky. "You don't think I spent all of my time at school carving into cadavers, do you?"

Shaking her head, Dia laughed again, this time slightly louder. They'd always expected Daniel to go into the service, just like her and their mother. When he came out of high school with dreams of being a doctor, however, Hannah Shepard welcomed the idea with open arms. It was every ambitious mother's dream. Her daughter was an up and coming marine with heaps of potential and her son wanted to be a surgeon. While it was true that Hannah would have loved Daniel no matter what he chose as his profession, she couldn't help but be pleased with how things turned out.

Now he'd graduated. He was an actual surgeon with a degree and everything, and she'd missed his graduation. Wrinkles formed between her brows as she watched him turn around and glance over his shoulder. Why did he look so different? He looked older, more mature. She shook her head. He was... twenty-nine now. She'd missed so much.

"Mom's been sitting at her console for an hour," Daniel chimed in just as her thought turned towards the bleak. "She's writing you a message. I don't think she trusts herself with video just yet." He sighed before scrubbing a hand over his face. "God, I don't even know what to say, Di. Other than the fact that I'd like to see you, if you're on the Citadel anytime soon. Mom would, too, even if she doesn't include that in her message."

Even though the vid wasn't the best quality, she could see his eyes well up before he looked down at his hands. He blinked rapidly before looking up at her again, a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth. "I've signed on as a resident in one of the hospitals in the Wards. I think mom almost pulled the, 'What are you trying to do? Get yourself shot?' before she remembered that that's already happened -" His eyes went wide before he managed a tremulous laugh. "Oh! You didn't know about that."

His hand went to the collar of his shirt, pulling it aside to reveal a stretch of dark, freckled skin, dotted not once but twice with gunshot scars as well as raised and jagged ones that looked to be from glass. "Impressive, isn't it? And I didn't cry once. You'd be proud of me."

This time, Dia smiled, even though her knee jerk instinct was surprise bordering upon grabbing her hand canon in order to shove in the face of whoever did that to her little brother.

"Well, running out of time here. I should go check on mom. It's been a long day." His previously impish grin faded into something almost rueful. "I know you're busy out there saving the galaxy. Again. I just wanted you to know that we're here, waiting. Mom even said she'd cook you dad's tamales if you were able to visit." He paused, expression sobering. "You better come. She doesn't cook for me like that."

Daniel's cheeks dimpled in a wide smile. "I love you, Dia. I mean it. I should've told you that a whole lot more when you were around, but you know how it is. Tell your sister you love her, and she slaps you in the back of the head. Or is that just mine?"

The moment his hand lifted in a wave goodbye, the video ended.

Dia leaned back in her chair, her own hand lifted as she chewed on her thumbnail. She still had to wait for her mother's message, but how long would that take? Even in the time it'd taken her brother's message to reach her, she hadn't received it.

Her eyes traveled to the end of her desk, to the twenty sets of tags lying neatly beside her medals. Taking a deep breath, she settled back onto her chair. While she waited for her mother's message, she could reply to Hackett. She knew he wasn't expecting a full mission report, but there was no harm in telling him that she'd completed what he'd asked of her.

Rubbing the heel of her palm into her eye, her face distorted in a yawn. She was exhausted in more ways than she could count, but she had to do this.

* * *

Back on the Citadel, Steven Hackett was seated at his own desk. A few days had passed since he sent Shepard the details on the mission; still, he was a patient man and knew that if there was anyone in the galaxy who deserved a little slack for being preoccupied, it was her.

When his inbox blinked onto the screen on his console only to show that he had a message from Shepard, his brows drifted upward in surprise.

He knew Dia was one of the more efficient people he knew, but he hadn't expected her to drop everything and go to Alchera. His jaw worked back and forth as he hesitated over the message. _No,_ he thought to himself, _I did expect it. I just didn't want to be presumptuous. I knew Shepard would do anything for her people. I just didn't expect everyone to agree to taking the mission on, not after what I've heard._

With a slight flourish, he pressed the button his finger hovered over, and the message opened.

_Admiral Hackett – _

_First of all, I'd like to thank you for speaking to my mother. I realize this was probably not your choice, but it means a lot to me. Hearing it from you no doubt eased her mind a little. I can't even begin to imagine what ups and downs she's been through over the past two years when it comes to news about me._

_The mission on Alchera is finished. I found what you asked of me. I only hope that having these tags helps the families cope with their losses._

_Again, thank you._

_Dia Shepard._

Hackett couldn't help but smile to himself as he read the final sentence over a second time. After how much she'd done for him – for _everyone – _she was still so quick to give her thanks. Anyone else would have expected him to act, expected him to tell their mother and not even bother with thanking him.

When the message was tucked away in his inbox, his eyes trailed to the list of names situated at the corner of his screen. Twenty of them stared back at him, but the sight of these names didn't intimidate him. The idea of calling their families was no longer daunting. He didn't have to tell them that the evidence was lost, that they would have to make peace with the death of their son or daughter, husband, wife, mother, father, without anything to remember them by.

In all his years in the military, he'd been forced to make that call too many times. He was beyond glad that he wouldn't be making those calls today.

"Thank you, Dia," Hackett murmured to himself.

Sighing, the pad of his thumb smoothed over the comm unit on his desk. The first name on the list belonged to Jamin Bakari, and while he knew nothing about the Bakari family, he felt a wave of relief rolling through him.

It felt good.

* * *

**A/N:** I just wanted to thank you guys for the reviews and the alerts. (I honestly wasn't expecting any of them! This isn't a low self-esteem talking or anything. It was just genuinely unexpected.) It feels good knowing that there are a few of you out there who appreciate the more off-kilter pairings. I'm hoping that you'll all stick around. :)


	3. Elixir of Life

**A/N: **First off, I wanted to apologize for the lack of updates! I'll be changing that in the near future, but things have been absolutely crazy (and I've been suffering from a bit of the old writer's block when it comes to this chapter). And secondly, I'd like to thank everyone who drops by. Your readership makes me happy.

* * *

From below the councilor's office, a sudden flare of blue interrupted the gait of a well-dressed turian. He cast his eyes up to the balcony only to see the color intensify – nearly doubled in brightness in comparison to the dimly lit area. Even so far down below, he could hear a firm, male voice nearly shout.

"Stand down, Shepard!"

Dia's eyes narrowed at Anderson, tendrils of blue rising off of the Cerberus uniform she wore. "No," she said. Her voice was strong; stronger than it had been in weeks. She wasn't angry. That much was obvious in the control she held over the quiver that threatened to overtake her speech. She was frustrated. Upset. Backed into a corner she never expected to see from all sides. "I didn't come here to _stand down_." Her gaze flicked to Alenko to see him leaning forward in a defensive stance, his own biotics flaring, though not as brightly as hers.

"What did you come here for, then?" Kaidan replied, his fingers twitching as he repressed the urge to ball them into a fist. "I know enough about what's going on. You don't have anything to explain to me."

"You're wrong," she countered. "I have a hell of a lot to say to you, Alenko. You'd know that if you hadn't run off before you let me explain myself. How long have we known each other? Two years? Three? You know me better than anyone in this room. And yet you still think I've betrayed you. To _Cerberus_, no less!"

The blue glow surrounding the staff commander dissipated, but he didn't step out of his stance. "Look at what you're wearing, Shepard."

She didn't look. She didn't have to. The stiff collar of the Cerberus dress uniform brushed at her neck. Its synthetic fabric ran over every limb, pulled taut around her upper arms and shoulders. Everything in her cabin's closet was emblazoned with the Cerberus logo, and she didn't have the means or the time to find a new set of clothes.

"Do you honestly think they would give me an Alliance uniform?" Dia pulled herself up to her full height, mere inches taller than Kaidan. For weeks she'd contemplated asking Anderson to give her something more suitable to wear, but it felt meaningless now, knowing that a change of uniform wouldn't actually change anything. "Everything I had was destroyed with the Normandy. My uniforms were there, too."

Garrus stepped up behind her. "You shouldn't have to explain yourself, Shepard. He's... 'grasping at sticks.'"

"Straws, Garrus."

The turian's mandibles flared slightly at Kaidan's correction.

"Her clothes don't matter," Jacob pressed from her left. "What she's wearing doesn't change who she is. You should be mature enough to realize this."

"It's still her choice," the biotic murmured. Shutting his eyes for a moment, he stepped back. She no longer presented a threat, so he wouldn't treat her as one. Even from the slight shift in his expression, she could tell that he was getting a headache. She was surprised he hadn't gotten one already. Or maybe he had; he'd become skilled in hiding the signs from just about anyone.

Dia let go of a frustrated puff of breath, shaking her head. "But it's _not_ my choice, Kaidan. If it was my choice, I'd be standing right here in _blue,_ and we'd be working together."

"And in what way is the Illusive Man forcing your hand?" He took a step forward before turning his back to her. One stride in the opposite direction. Two. Turn. His brown eyes locked onto hers, completely unabashed in their glare. "He can't just be sitting there, watching you do good deeds, Shepard. That's not how he does things."

"How would you know how he does things?" she asked, her chest rising and falling in a failed attempt to keep herself in check. "You're blanketing a subject that requires a _lot_ more detail than that. You don't know _shit_ about what's happening. Not really."

Jacob opened his mouth to agree with her, but he was silenced by a steely gaze from the turian at his side. He knew better than to get between either of them in this sort of situation, and he'd rather not let Jacob learn his lesson right now.

A look of disbelief crossed Kaidan's features. "You're making excuses for them?" he asked, thick brows skewing in a baffled expression. "After all we've seen them do? After what happened with Admiral Kahoku?" Shaking his head, his voice softened. "You lost your entire unit because of their sick experiments, and you're standing here, telling me they're just **misunderstood**?"

"Alenko..." Anderson interjected, stepping in between the two of them before Dia could respond. While he hadn't seen her face, he could almost feel the air sparking around him. The councilor's voice dropped to a mutter. "Maybe you should quit while you're ahead."

Taking a long stride forward until she stood just behind Anderson, index finger pointed directly at Kaidan, her words were barely able to fight their way out of her clenching, suddenly dry throat. "You're lucky we have so much history," she told him, "And you're lucky the Alliance needs soldiers like you. Because so help me God, if you were anything less than you are..." Her voice shook, and she faltered, a fist clenching around her already racing heart. "You'd regret saying that."

Turning away from his stunned silence, Dia left the room without saying another word.

She didn't look back to see if Jacob and Garrus had followed her out. In fact, she knew they hadn't as she didn't hear the sound of movement behind her as she made her way through the still-unfamiliar hallways of the Council's personal offices. Not that they would have been able to keep up with her anyway. Even Garrus' lengthy strides would've fallen short of keeping up with her determined gait.

Even as she passed by Councilor Velarn's office, not a single potential word or action crossed her mind. Everything was white noise, her thoughts pushed aside in favor of clearing her mind as her tutors taught her early on. She couldn't think; if she thought about what was happening, she'd get angry. And if she got angry, she wasn't entirely sure she could smother it all down.

Taking a shaky breath, she turned around the corner, narrowly avoiding a collision with an asari. The violet-hued receptionist gave a startled gasp, but said not a word when she saw the line of Dia's mouth, content with getting past without any more than a shock.

The antechamber was full of politicians. Most of them continued talking (or murmuring or ranting) to the being next to them as she made her way through the very center of the room, but a few went quiet, dropping the din to a slightly more manageable hum of speech. One particular individual turned away from the man beside him, watching with a pair of alert gray-blue eyes as the door hissed closed behind her.

Holding up a hand to silence Udina, Steven Hackett rose to his feet, nodding a silent, not entirely genuine apology before moving after her, a slight hitch in his step.

"Shepard!" Dia was stepping into the elevator by the time he caught up with her, but she didn't have the heart to let the door close in his face. Holding a hand out in front of it, she managed her best smile, though the admiral didn't appear very impressed. The sight of his apprehension caused the poorly faked grin to fall as he stepped in next to her, thin brows hitched high on his forehead. Pulling her hand back, she allowed the elevator's door to slide closed. "I wanted to thank you in person, but it appears you've got something else on your mind." He tilted his head in the direction of the room they'd just left, lying across an open-air promenade. "Something Councilor Anderson wasn't able to help you with."

When she didn't reply, pressing the necessary buttons on the console to bring her to the first floor and holding her hands behind her in a stance that couldn't have been stiffer if she tried, he didn't press the matter. Instead, he watched as the floors flew past, the altogether short ride coming to an end even as silence stretched out in front of them.

Just as she was taking a step forward, his voice stopped her in her tracks. "I don't suppose a drink would get an answer out of you, would it?"

Glancing towards him, her eyes narrowed a little, not in annoyance or anger, but in curiosity. She looked over his face, and she found nothing there aside from concern. What had she expected? An agenda? From the man who she owed and owed her? "Do you have anything in mind?" she asked, voice roughened by its misuse mere minutes before.

"Panacea," he replied simply. "It's not far off, and it's too early for it to be crowded."

Dia's tongue flicked out over her dry bottom lip, her head bobbing in a nod. No harm would come of her from _one_ drink. Her metabolism kept her from getting anything more than tipsy if she watched her intake, and she trusted Hackett. "Sounds good."

They walked together in silence, far enough apart not to touch, but close enough that it was clear they were together. Only when she realized how leisurely his pace was did she find the will to slow down, preferring to stay in stride with him than stick her neck out any farther than she wanted to.

As he'd mentioned, the bar wasn't far off. She'd been there a few times before – with Kaidan and Ash, her stomach reminded her with a little flip. It was a nice place, run by a human and asari couple. Most of the drinks human in origin, but with an alien twist orchestrated by the woman's partner. Panacea was known for one drink in particular – the Elixir of Life, the bar's expected specialty considering the bar's namesake. The very thought of the drink comprised of coconut milk and liqueur made from an asari fruit not unlike a strawberry made Dia's mouth water, prompting her to order two of them the moment she sat down at the counter.

This time, Hackett looked impressed.

"Is it really that bad?"

Dia shook her head, her hands laced in her lap as she stared at the bartender's back. Her dark eyes focused intently on the man's protruding vertebrae, unwilling to look at Hackett as she replied with a quiet, "I really don't want to talk about it. Not without my drink."

"Or drinks, rather," he intoned as the man turned and presented her with twin hourglass shaped glasses. "I'm not going to just let this go, Shepard."

Lifting up one of the glasses, she tipped it back, shutting her eyes as she took two large gulps of the drink. Her brows knitted together above her nose as she set it back down with accidental force, cringing slightly at the sound of glass impacting glass with a noticeable _thump_. "Is that really necessary?"

"Not as necessary as some clarification." Hackett removed his glasses and replaced them in the front pocket of his uniform.

"Is calling me by my _last name_ necessary? Is your sudden interest in what's going on _necessary_? Pick one. Or both." Lifting the glass up a second time, she took another long drink from it again, giving her head a little shake as the chill ran directly into her brain. "I don't care."

Hackett nodded to the bartender, who then took his order of scotch with a smile. The amber liquid curled around the carved crystalline glass as it was pushed out in front of him not a moment later. "Why is it necessary? I can't have humanity's best and brightest doubling up on novelty drinks on the Presidium because she isn't getting the help she needs."

"'Not getting the help she needs' is the understatement of the century," she said despite the tightness in her jaw, working the almost painful tension out of it as she set her now empty glass down. "I assume you know what happened on Horizon."

"I read the reports, yes," he murmured, lifting his much shorter tumbler of liquor up to his lips. "Nasty business."

Dia gave a huff of laughter. "Nasty. Right. Having my _former_ lieutenant call me a traitor and insinuate that I'm working against the Alliance. _Nasty_. Another understatement." When she looked at him, he could see right past the fire in her eyes. It heated up the facets of bronze until they almost glowed, but he could still see past them, winding up face to face with the woman Hannah Shepard's eldest very rarely allowed herself to be. "You're two for two, admiral."

"Then let me try to break the pattern." His hands curled around the glass, wrists resting against the curve of the bar, posture as straight as was possible. "You're above this because you _have_ to be above this." When he looked to her, she was staring down at her remaining drink. Condensation was beginning to form around the glass as it remain untouched. "This is a hell of a lot bigger than any of us, but you're the closest to what we need that we have, making you infallible in my eyes and in the eyes of just about anyone whose opinion actually matters." Tilting his glass against his mouth, he pulled another swallow of scotch from it, shutting his eyes for a moment to enjoy the feeling of it crawling down his throat. "I was talking to Udina before I saw you. Do you know what he said?"

The look Dia shot him told him that she didn't feel like playing guessing games, especially ones about anything the ambassador had to say. "He told me that Staff Commander Alenko was short-sighted." Tapping his index finger on the bar, Hackett tilted his head just enough to look at her. "He said that anyone who knew what was happening – and experienced it first hand, nonetheless – should have kissed your feet, not berated you in front of your party."

Hackett paused, a hint of a smile curling at the corner of his mouth. "Last week, he started having nightmares about being abducted. I would appreciate it if that was kept between the two of us."

At that, Dia gave a quiet rumble of a chuckle, her eyes moving up to his. "That _really_ shouldn't be the thing that makes me feel better," she sighed, lifting a hand to rub at the bunched skin between her eyebrows. "God, I feel terrible."

They were both quiet for a long moment, and it was Hackett who finally broke the silence, his empty glass pushed away, mere inches away from hers. "Dia," he began, "If I focused on what those close to me said every time I had to make a difficult decision, I wouldn't have anyone left. It's difficult, but putting all of this away to solve later is imperative."

"Thank you," she replied in a near-whisper.

"For what?" Hackett nodded to the bartender, digging into his pocket for a credit chit to hand to the man. When she saw the man swipe the chit, she deflated slightly, having been ready to pay for herself. "For the drinks? There's no need to thank me."

Dia shook her head. "For speaking to me," she said, her shoulder hitching up a little in a shrug. "For actually being impartial and giving me advice."

"Well..." Rising from his stool, he stood next to hers, his hand resting on the curved back of it. "I wouldn't say I was _entirely_ impartial, but you're welcome." She looked up at him, one of her brows tilting upwards with a peaked curiosity that would remain dissatisfied for the time being. "Next time you're planning on visiting the Citadel for more than a few hours, you should contact me in advance. We could do this again, hopefully with less tension and more food."

Before she could say something, he took a step back, giving her time to do nothing more than nod before he turned on his feet and walked off.

No more than a few minutes later, she heard a quiet chirrup, reflex driving her to tap her fingertips against the wristband hidden beneath her sleeve. Her arm sheathed in orange instantly, a small screen extending upwards. At the sound of Joker's voice, an aqua-colored line began to dive and climb. "Shepard, Jacob and Garrus just got here. We should probably get going." He paused. "I think Tali'd appreciate it."

Dia rose from her seat. "I'll be there in twenty unless I can't find a cab," she said, her voice finally leaving whatever lingering roughness behind to reveal her usual even tone. "Don't leave without me."

"Nah, I think I'll keep my skull attached to my spine for a little while longer, thanks."

Shaking her head with a laugh, she pressed against the band a second time, her omni-tool flickering out of existence as she left the bar.


End file.
